Don't Get Her Angry - Part One
by melissakay
Summary: Guy of Gisborne can't keep his hands off the help. But when he makes a pass at the new maid, he gets more than he bargained for...


_Guy of Gisborne meets his match when a mysterious woman turns up in Nottingham and won't fall for his somewhat dubious charms. Disturbed at how he treats women, she decides to teach him a lesson he'll never forget! (This is from the POV of both characters so if it swings back and forth a bit, I apologise). _

**Part One**

She caught his eye, and then captured his imagination, in quick succession. It was the alabaster skin, blood red lips and raven hair that did it for him. He thought he'd woken up in a Grimm fairy tale, and kept looking for seven little men trailing behind her. She seemed so sweet, lovely and innocent. He longed to know her name. He found himself reading Shakespeare and writing notes in the margin to use as pickup lines. He was aware of how ridiculous he must look – the Lord of Locksley lusting after a chamber maid – but he couldn't seem to help himself. He felt he must have her, or else perish.

It was hard to hide his new crush from the Sheriff. The ugly old brute seemed to be able to sniff out unrequited love like a bloodhound trained to find human cadavers. 'Lepers, Gisborne,' he'd hiss, when he'd spot Guy eyeing up a pretty girl. 'Keep them at a distance.'

Well that's easy enough for _you_, thought Guy, sourly. You've got a face only a mother could love; while I have a broody, dark quality certain women can't get enough of. And when I say certain women, I mean about 90% of them, at last count! He glanced over at the corner of his room where a large canvas bag was spilling over with declarations of love from the lusty single (and some, not so much) ladies of Nottingham and beyond. Yes, he had no shortage of female admirers, but did any of them fan _his_ flames? Not since Marian had run off with Robin Hood and joined his band of outlaws had Guy felt such a stirring in his loins as he was experiencing now. That little chamber maid had better watch that cute little backside of hers, he thought, with a smirk. Because I'll be chewing on it!

She walked down the corridor armed with a stack of clean, pressed and folded bed-linens, her head full of tasks she needed to get done before the Sheriff's honourable guests arrived for the jousting tournament, when she heard a noise behind her. Stopping, she forced the task list to the back of her mind and concentrated on the here and now. But whatever it was it must have either disappeared, or stopped with her. Sighing, she turned on a heel to face an empty hallway. It must have been my imagination, she thought. I'm tired and cranky. I really need an early night tonight. It's going to be practically impossible to catch forty winks once this tournament is up and running!

Turning back the way she'd been going, she took barely three steps before she heard it again – a footstep that couldn't possibly be hers, as it was far too heavy and ominous. Spinning around quickly, she caught her stalker before he could pull his magic disappearing trick again.

'Who are you and why are you following me?' she asked the tall man clad entirely in black leather. 'I must know, at once.'

'If you tell me your name, I'll tell you mine,' he replied, with a smirk he obviously thought would win her over, as it must have won over countless vacuous maidens before her. But she was not one to melt over a mere facial expression. She remained resolute. 'You were the one following _me_. I think I have the right to know who is dogging my every step.'

He nodded, conceding defeat. 'I am Guy of Gisborne, Lord of Locksley, at your service, My Lady.'

'Well, which is it? Are you of Gisborne or Locksley?' she asked, confused.

'Oh, well… I am from Gisborne, originally. But I was gifted Locksley when Robin Hood turned outlaw and became an enemy of the state.'

'So… you're a Lord by default, then.'

He appeared hurt, but shook it off. 'No, I _am_ a Lord, which makes me your master, actually.'

'Is that so?' she asked. 'I thought that was the Sheriff.'

'He's got too much on his plate to concern himself with the day to day running of the household.' Gisborne replied. 'That's what he has me for.'

'So you're like a butler.'

He tilted his dark head and stared at her. 'If that makes me your boss, yes.'

She levelled her brown eyes at his blue ones. 'Well, just so you know, I'm not very good at following orders when I don't respect the people giving them.'

She half expected him to fire her then and there, and wasn't terribly concerned if he did. There were other jobs a girl of her station and looks could acquire. She just preferred being where the power was. And she happened to know that men with power tended to like a girl with a bit of spunk about her. So she wasn't surprised when he laughed, instead of getting angry, and said, 'You're a spirited one, aren't you. Well, we'll just see how long that lasts, around here.' He turned and walked away, and she couldn't help but direct her glance downward a fraction. Nice rear, she thought. Pity its owner appears to be an arse, as well!

'Wait,' he said, suddenly stopping and turning on his heel. 'I didn't get your name.'

'Mabel,' she replied, without a curtsy. 'At your service, apparently.'

The expression on his darkly handsome face told her that the idea of her being at his service was very much to his liking! 'Well, Mabel,' he said, 'it was… a pleasure meeting you.'

'Well I'd say the same but you know I'd be lying, so… it's been… educational,' she replied.

'I appreciate your honesty,' he said, looking somewhat chastened. 'It's a rare quality, in these times.'

Hm, thought Mabel. Could I have been wrong about him?

The day of the tournament dawned bright and warm, promising a great day of jousting and entertainment courtesy of the Sheriff of Nottingham, who was facing an ever-increasing number of disgruntled constituents he needed to curry favour with. Mabel was in the pantry that morning, trying to reach a jar of peaches when all of a sudden she smelled leather and felt a strong man's body press up against her. She was about to give him an elbow in the ribs when she realised he was reaching for the same thing. He smiled rakishly as he handed it to her. 'You need to grow a few inches,' he observed. 'Although, the best things _do_ come in small packages.'

'Uh… thank you,' she only just remembered to say. 'Why… why are you here, Sir Guy? Surely you have more pressing matters to attend to.'

The corner of his lips turned up a little at the mention of the word _pressing_. 'Not just yet, my lady. I thought I'd see how things were going for the welcoming feast.'

Mabel frowned. 'If you ask me, there are far too many feasts on this itinerary when there are so many people starving outside the city gates.'

'You remind me so much of someone I used to know,' Gisborne replied. 'I can't decide if it's irritating or endearing.'

Mabel wasn't sure what she should say in response to that. 'I have to get back to work,' she told him, as he blocked her path to the pantry door with his tall, broad-shouldered frame. 'Could you excuse me, please?'

'Of course,' he said, standing aside and waving her past. 'Don't work too hard, Snow White.'

She was directly underneath the door frame, caught between the huge oak post and Guy of Gisborne, when she stopped attempting to squeeze past him and glared up at him. 'What did you just call me?'

'Snow White,' he repeated. 'Well, you do bear a certain resemblance. Black hair, skin white as snow… you _have_ read the book, I take it?'

'Yes,' she said, 'of course I have. But I don't intend on falling for the first man I set eyes on, and I'm not sitting around waiting for my prince to come. So that's where we differ.'

'So by that should I assume that you don't like your new nickname?'

Mabel shrugged. 'I just don't see why you can't just call me Mabel.'

'It doesn't suit you,' Guy replied. 'Mabel's a name for old ladies. Not beautiful young women.'

She supposed his intense stare was meant to wilt her, get her to bend to his will, and it almost worked. Almost. 'But every old lady was a young woman, once,' she countered.

'True,' he conceded. 'I'm still going to call you Snow White.'

She shrugged again. 'Do as you like. But I may not answer to it.' She squeezed the final inches through the narrow doorway and could breathe again. Somehow Gisborne seemed to suck all the air out of any room he entered. And Mabel didn't know how he managed to smell so damn good, wearing all that leather, all the time!

He's getting to you, said her inner voice, the voice of reason. You can't let him get to you. You have a purpose, a role to play here. You can't let someone like him derail your plans – or worse – uncover them. Which should surely happen if you allow yourself to fall for him. He's too close to the Sheriff, for one thing! You must be careful!

Yes, yes, said that little devil on her shoulder. Blah, blah, blah!

But something happened to make her change her mind about Gisborne yet again.

'Oh no, I can't,' said the lowly scullery maid. 'I have small children at home. I must get back to them. Couldn't you ask someone who doesn't have family, to stay after hours?'

'If you don't do your job,' said Guy, 'I can and will sack you.'

The girl sucked in a huge breath. 'Oh, please don't! I'll try… I'll try to find someone to watch them… perhaps my neighbour? But please give me an hour off so that I can make arrangements…'

'Very well,' said Guy, begrudgingly. 'You have half an hour.'

'But it will take me at least that long to get out of the city…'

'Half an…' Guy hadn't finished repeating his unreasonable request when Mabel appeared at the doorway of the kitchen. '…hour. Ah… it's Snow White.'

'Oh, I'm nowhere _near _as innocent,' she replied, with a half smile. She glanced at the maid, who was on the verge of tears, then back up at him. 'Are you bullying this poor woman, Guy? Because it seems to me that a man your size shouldn't need to push women around in order to assert his masculinity.'

He bristled. 'If you must know, I'm not pushing her around, or bullying her. I'm establishing boundaries. This same maid took off last week, presumably to take care of a sick child, and was seen gossiping at the market place when she was supposed to be at home.'

'I was buying oranges at the fruit stall,' the maid protested. 'Is it my fault I know the grocer?'

'You were supposed to be home.'

'And what was my sick child supposed to eat?'

'Enough, enough, both of you,' interrupted Mabel. 'Greta, I'll do your afternoon shift. Go home to your children.'

'Oh, thank you… thank you, child. Bless you,' wept Greta. She wiped her tears with a sleeve and hurried away. Guy stared down at Mabel. 'What did you do that for?'

'What did I do, exactly? Except give the poor woman the night off?' Mabel replied. 'I don't have a family. I can stay late. I don't particularly _want_ to, but I'll do it. It's the principle of the thing.'

'You made me look like an ogre,' Guy said, staring down at his feet. 'I don't do too well when people challenge my authority.'

'I don't think I challenged it so much as undermined it,' Mabel replied, playfully.

Gisborne met her gaze, squarely. 'You are a singularly frustrating woman, Mabel'.

'So I frustrate you?' She asked, taking a step closer. 'Is that all I do?'

His Adam's apple moved up and down in his throat. 'No,' he managed to say. 'Not by half.'

She smiled, said, 'Good,' and walked away.

Guy could not move. He was so stunned at the new servant's bold attitude that all his motor functions were completely frozen. He just stood staring after Mabel, his mouth ajar, only snapping out of his funk when she called back, 'And close your mouth, Gisborne, you'll let the flies in.'

I _have _to have this woman, he thought. I _will_ have her! Let's just see how bossy she is when she's on her back, legs in the air!


End file.
